Best Possible Use of a Christmas Gift
by MapleleafCameo
Summary: A gift of a sheepskin rug gives John ideas of the best possible use.


**A/N: Yeah mattsloved1 and johnsarmylady are to blame for egging me on. They gave me **_**sublime**_**, **_**heated**_**, **_**sated**_** and **_**Mrs. Hudson gives the boys a sheepskin rug**_**.**

**They and I are incorrigible. That's all there is to say.**

Wrapping paper lay strewn around the room, a hurricane of red and green had raged through the room. Even though there was only the two of them, John had gone overboard in finding gifts for Sherlock. Little things he thought would amuse him, perfect items of clothing that would make his eyes stand out, presents for more intimate occasions. It was their first Christmas as a couple and he wanted to spoil him. Sherlock had complained and grumbled about the idiocy of Christmas as a waste of time and energy. How it was a money grab generated by corporate greed as it catered to the masses, but he was quickly reduced to a child again when it came to opening his gifts from John.

They were down to their last gift. It was a thick, squashy tube shaped package from Mrs. Hudson. She had addressed it to the both of them in her elegant script.

'_Here's something to brighten the hearth and keep you warm. I had one when I was first married. Use it well.'_ It was signed with her name and a winking, smiley face.

Sherlock unrolled the gift from its wrapping. It lay on his lap, an off-white offering that automatically sent erotic images into John's brain. Was it terrible that he could picture Sherlock lying stretched out on it, naked, his skin glistening with sweat?

John blushed. "Oh good lord! Is that…is that what I think it is?"

"Quite. A sheepskin rug. How impractical. Difficult to clean, we already have a rug. I wonder if I can use it in experiments?"

Mouth a little dry, John said, "Sherlock…"

"John, why are you blushing?"

"Ummm, well it's sheepskin."

"I do believe I have already stated that observation. I always said you were intelligent."

Standing up from his chair, John walked over to Sherlock. He reached down and ran his hand through the soft, luxuriant wool, reminiscent of Sherlock's curls, thick and silky. He maintained eye contact with Sherlock the whole time.

"I guess I was blushing because I can picture you, lying on this, in front of the hearth, naked and sublime. This is a sheepskin rug. Unbelievably soft and warm. Mrs. Hudson would want us to use it and use it well." He took Sherlock's hand and placed it upon the soft wool.

It was Sherlock's turn to blush, when the idea of where John's thoughts were leading hit his magnificent brain. "Oh, well…I…I…"

John bent down and brushed his lips against Sherlock's, almost chastely, but with the heated promise of something more. There was nothing chaste about the way his tongue began to lightly caress Sherlock's mouth until it opened underneath his prompting. He began to unfasten the row of buttons straining the luxurious wine coloured material of his shirt. Slowly, he reached in and stroked the smooth skin underneath. The pink nipples pebbled responsively as he lightly ran his fingernails over them; they rose, expectant and ready. Taking the rug from Sherlock, he broke off the kiss and spread the sheepskin in front of the hearth. Eyes on Sherlock, he began to leisurely remove his clothes. Sherlock sat in his chair, his eyes blinking rapidly, his breathing increasing.

John lay down on the sheepskin rug. It was a little short, but he groaned as the soft, fibres caressed his naked skin.

"Oh god, Sherlock. You must come here," he patted the rug invitingly.

Sherlock quickly and a little clumsily shucked off his clothes and joined John on the rug.

There was barely enough room for the two of them to lay side-by-side. Where it touched their skin, the rug was soft and warm. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock, pulled him closer, all the while kissing him, languidly, his fingers tracing patterns on Sherlock's back. They trailed down until they reached his firm, round buttocks. Gently, he kneaded and squeezed, slipping his fingers into the cleft between, teasing and fondling, his finger brushing across his puckered entrance. Sherlock made little mewling noises and began to gasp heavily. His own hand wandered to John's hip and then to his cock. It was full and heavy, a pearlescent drop of pre-cum glimmered in the firelight. He fondled John's balls, rolling them in his hand.

Shifting him gradually over onto his back, John continued to kiss and lick his way down Sherlock's long, lithe body. He sat up and straddled Sherlock. Hand wrapped around both of their cocks, he traced his thumb over the tip, wiping the slippery liquid over both of them. Eyes locked with Sherlock's he groaned and said, "You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen. I can't keep my hands off of you. I want to touch you everywhere. I want to put my fingers inside you, dipping in and out, touching, rubbing. I want to use my mouth, my tongue. I want to make you come, Sherlock. Will you come for me? Will you scream my name?"

"John, oh god, yes, please, John!"

Leaning forward, John kissed Sherlock, thrusting and licking his tongue in and out of that perfect, 'fuck me' mouth in time to his strokes. The noises Sherlock made, he could get off just from that.

A long shudder undulated down his body as Sherlock laid his hand over John's, the two of them stoking together.

"Fuck, Sherlock!" he gasped into his mouth.

Sherlock huffed in response and his hips rocked, the motion thrusting both of them up into John's hand. Sweat gathered between John's shoulders and across his chest due to the heat from the fire and the warmth of the rug. Sherlock's panting increased and he shouted John's name as he came. The sight of Sherlock's come streaking his own chest was all it took for John to follow after, his own come mingling with Sherlock's, which caused a final shudder and thrust.

Sated he collapsed, his arm shot out before he could land on top of the wet, messy chest. He shakily reached over to the box of tissues nearby and used them to wipe up the ejaculate. He then stretched out on top of Sherlock. His mouth close enough to Sherlock's to continue to kiss him in impassioned post coital kisses.

"That was extraordinary. The way this feels, the softness and warmth. I must catalogue these sensations. John, this will require more experimentation." Sherlock's voice was sleepy and slurred.

Jon chuckled wearily. "'m sure Mrs. Hudson will be pleased that we found her gift to be so useful, but perhaps we should not be specific."

Sherlock, his turn to wrap arms around John, his hand stroking down his back, joined in with his own chuckles. "I'm sure she has an idea of what we would use this for. She was after all quite an adventurous woman in her youth."

"Sherlock, that is an image I did not need to have in my head at this particular moment."

They lay there quiet and content, but soon their bodies began to cool and John crawled off of Sherlock to search for his clothes, which lay strewn amongst the wrappings.

Dressed, he bent down and shook Sherlock's shoulder. He had fallen asleep. Unable to awaken him, John fondly shook his head and found an afghan to place over his naked body, he left him there, a final touch of his hand through the mussed curls. He built up the fire and began to gather up the paper. Trust Sherlock to find a way to get out of cleaning up the remains of the flurry of unwrapping.


End file.
